The Ever After of Ella and Micha

Chapter 4

Ella

I’ve opened Pandora’s box and there’s no turning back. After I got out of the shower, I started working on my portfolio some more, but I became really frustrated when I couldn’t get the creative juices flowing, so I decided to read my mom’s journal and now I can’t seem to stop. We’ve been at Micha’s house for only a day and I’m halfway through the damn thing, the house too empty and quiet to distract me from reading every last word my mother wrote.

Micha found out that this morning his mom was with Thomas and now she’s working the night shift at the diner so she won’t be home until morning and Micha and I decided we’ll talk to her when she gets home, announce the news. Micha and Ethan wandered off a couple of hours ago to the grocery store to restock the cupboards that weren’t full enough to feed their “hungry man bellies.” Their words not mine. And Lila’s taking a shower.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, wearing one of Micha’s shirts and a pair of jeans. It’s chilly due to the fact that Micha’s mom always leaves the heat low to save money. It’s part of Star Grove life though, half the town is in poverty because a plant shut down a long time ago. We did it at my house, too, sometimes leaving the heat off intentionally and sometimes unintentionally when I forgot to pay the bill or there wasn’t enough money to pay it.

I have a cup of coffee in front of me, along with the journal. The first ten pages are fairly normal, talking about prom and her love for art, although her words are a little mopey. I never even knew she liked to draw but from the few drawings in the box, it looked like she had talent. It’s kind of nice to read about her like that, but then things start to get dark and the warm, fuzzing feelings I was having getting to know that artistic side of my mom shift into chills, especially when I get to the part about my dad. At first she seemed excited to be dating him. Like, really excited to the point where she almost seemed high. But then the excitement went quickly downhill, reminding me of all those times when she seemed okay and then suddenly she wasn’t.

I’m not sure who I am anymore. I feel like I’m lost all the time. When I look in the mirror, the person I see isn’t the person I used to be. Instead of eyes, I see two empty holes. Instead of a mouth, I see lips sewn together. I don’t know what’s happening to me. What changed in me. What made me feel like my skin is molting off as I turn into a different person who can’t even walk anymore without a lot of effort. If I had my way, I’d sit in bed forever.

Until I died.

But I can’t do that now. I have a responsibility. A child growing in my belly and a man who will be my husband in just a few weeks. It’s terrifying and not the life I think I want. But there’s nowhere else to go and really any other alternative is just as bleak as the one before me. Any future is, and sometimes just having one is frightening.

The entry was written when she was eighteen, right before she married my dad. She was pregnant with my older brother, Dean, something I didn’t know. Her thoughts are terrifying, especially since I’ve recently been contemplating my future and where kids fit into the mix. But I don’t get it. My dad once told me that she used to be happy in the beginning, but if that’s the case, then when was he talking about? When was the beginning? Because in the journal entry she’d known him for only six months and she already seemed to be falling into the dark hole of despair that I’m very familiar with, no matter what I do or try to change about my life. In the end, I have depression. It’ll always be with me—with Micha and me. I’ve known this for a while and yet I’m still going forward with him, always crossing my fingers he never regrets it.

But what if he does?

I take out a drawing that’s folded up in back of the journal along with a photo of my mom on a bed with her chin on her knees and her hair falling into her green eyes that look exactly like mine. She’s smiling, but there’s something off about the snapshot, like she’s forcing herself to look happy, or maybe that’s just what she looked like when she was happy. It’s hard to tell sometimes and most of the time when I knew her, she just looked lost. She doesn’t look lost here, but she doesn’t look like she’s someone who’s got everything figured out. I wonder if that’s what I look like?

The drawing is of this vase with a single rose inside it and the petals are cracked and wilting, piling up around the bottom. It hurts my heart looking at it, because as an artist, I can guess what place her thoughts were at when she drew it because I’ve been in that place.

“Oh my God, Ella, you did not ball up your wedding dress and shove it in a duffel bag.” Lila huffs as she stomps into the kitchen with an overflowing armful of fabric and a rolled-up magazine. She’s wearing a holey pair of jeans and a plain pink T-shirt, her blond and black hair damp. “Seriously, why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly shut the journal, regretting having opened it in the first place. Maybe I wasn’t ready to read it. Maybe I should just let the past go. I’d been doing so well and I’ve even been off my medication. But I want to understand her. “I didn’t even think about it when I stuffed it in there.”

Lila lets the bottom of the dress go, but holds onto the top, examining the fabric. “It’s all wrinkled now.” She scrunches her nose at the front of the dress as she fiddles with one of the black roses on it. “We’re going to, like, have to hang it up in the bathroom and steam the wrinkles out.”

“The bathroom should be all steamed up from your shower.” I bring the brim of the mug to my mouth. “So you could hang it up now.”

“Yeah, it was already steamed up from your shower.” She rolls her eyes and then laughs off her irritation. “You two and showers… I don’t get it.”

“Well, you really should,” I say, unable to restrain a smile as thoughts of Micha and his hands and tongue overtake me. The dark thoughts the journal instilled in my head evaporate like the steam coming from the mug, although I’m fairly sure they’ll be back if I continue to read it. “You’re really missing out.”

She drapes the dress on the back of the chair and sits down across the table from me. “Then maybe I’ll have to try it sometime with Ethan.”

Quiet settles between us as she opens up the magazine she was carrying and I realize it’s a wedding magazine. We’ve been friends for almost two and a half years now and it still feels like we hardly know each other sometimes. Perhaps it’s because of my lack of being able to talk deeply about things or because it seems like we both like to carry our secrets.

“So you and Ethan,” I start, setting the mug down on the table. “How’s that going?”

She shrugs, restraining a grin as she flips a page of the magazine. “Good, I guess.”

“Do you, like, love him?” I make a mocking swoon face. I never had any girlfriends when I was growing up. Instead I was mostly surrounded by Micha and his friends or my brother and his friends, so sometimes acting girly is weird.

Lila lowers her hand onto the table and then crosses her arms. “I think I do.”

“Think?” I ask. “Or know? Because I heard you both know.”

Her brows furrow. “Did Ethan tell Micha that we said I love you?”

I nod and take another sip of my coffee. “They do that sometimes, you know. Tell each other their secrets like a couple of girls.”

“Well, they are friends,” she says. “They should tell each other stuff.”

I nod and wonder if I should tell her about my fear of writing and saying my vows, since I can’t discuss it with Micha. She could help me figure stuff out. Maybe. Although I don’t think she could help me with the fear of getting married, which might be behind the reason why I can’t write my vows.

Before I can say anything, though, she suddenly rises from her chair with a big grin on her face. “I almost forgot. I got you a present.”

“Why?” My expression falls. No one’s ever given me presents except Micha and I’m not really a fan of getting them.

“For your wedding, duh.” She rolls her eyes like I’m being absurd and then heads back to the guest room. A few minutes later, she returns with a big pink gift bag in her hand. “Here you go, bride-to-be,” she singsongs and then hands it to me. “I was going to give it to you yesterday, but… well, you know. Things happened.”

“Yeah, I know.” I set the bag down on the table. “That really wasn’t about my panicking about getting married. I promise.”

She plops down in the chair and props her elbow on the table. “Then what was it about?”

“Stuff.” I’m hesitant, and when she presses me with a look, I decide to let her in on my life just a little, especially since I recently learned her parents haven’t always been that great to her either. “I’m just worried about stuff in the future.”

She slumps back in the chair. “Well, that’s normal, Ella. Everyone worries about their future, especially when they’re about to get married and are starting a future with someone else.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I should probably just try to relax.” But even when I say it, it doesn’t seem possible. Relax. Sure, it’s easy when I’m in Micha’s arms or he’s inside me and everything else around me—life—feels nonexistent. But alone without his comfort I’m hyperaware of the things that lie inside me, the dark things that could overwhelm me with sadness at any moment—I could lose myself at any moment.

We sit quietly as fluffy snowflakes melt against the windows and leave thin trails of water on the glass.

Eventually Lila sits up and attempts to look happier. “Okay, enough with the sad. You need to open my present.”

I make a wary face at the gift bag and then open it up. There’s decorative paper inside and a box sealed with a bow. I set it down on the table, then untie the bow and lift the lid. The first thing I come across is a blue garter trimmed with white lace. I take it out and put it around my wrist.

“You know that doesn’t go there, right?” Lila teases, sitting up in the chair. “And it’s your something blue.”

“How very traditional of you,” I say playfully and Lila smiles as I move onto the next item, a silver bracelet with a heart charm on it.

“And that’s your something borrowed,” she informs me. “You have to give it back to me when the wedding’s over.”

“It’s pretty,” I tell her, even though it’s not really my style. But I appreciate it—her making the effort. “But I thought the dress was my something borrowed?”

She shoves the magazine aside and crosses her arms on the table. “Nah, you can keep the dress and consider it your something old. It doesn’t hold anything but painful memories for me anyway.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I’m positive,” she assures me and then gestures at the box. “Take the next thing out. It can be your something new.”

I direct my attention back to the box and remove a much smaller box inside it. Inside, there’s some red, lacy fabric, which I take out and hold up. “Jesus, this is skanky,” I say wiggling my fingers through what looks like nipple holes.

She giggles. “Skanky but fun.”

I sigh, stick my hand into the box, and pull out a sequined thong. “Is this the bottom part or something?”

“It’s whatever you want, I guess,” she says with humor in her voice. “It could even be for Micha.”

I snort a laugh and drop the thong onto the lacy fabric. “This is like a sex kit, isn’t it?”

She shrugs, examining her nails. “I went into this really questionable store with sex toys and lingerie and told the clerk to pick out the best newlywed gifts.”

I slip the garter off my wrist and add it to the pile with the thong. “So you have no idea what’s in here?”

“Not a clue except for the garter and the bracelet—I added those myself. But I’m dying to find out.”

“Okay, now I’m really intrigued.” I reach in and remove the next item, a feather duster with a really long handle. “What is this for?” I run my fingers along the feathers and then shiver. “It tickles.”

She giggles, twirling a strand of her short hair around her finger. “I think that’s the point,” she says and I extend my arm across the table and tickle her face with it. “Hey, what the hell?” She laughs as I pull it away. “That’s not for me and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tickle faces with it.”

“It could be for you. You and Ethan could totally use it.” I set the feather duster on top of the pile and reach for the last item, which is in another box, a long narrow one.

“You really want to go down that road?” she questions. “The one where we talk about our sex lives.”

I shrug as I open the top of the smaller white box, and then tip it to the side and batteries fall out. “You used to tell me all the time about the guys you hooked up with.” I pick up the batteries, scrunching my forehead.

Her expression plummets and she abruptly becomes uncomfortable. “Yeah, but I’m not hooking up with some guy. I’m hooking up with Ethan and in the past you two didn’t always seem like the best of friends.” She snatches the batteries from me with inquisitiveness in her expression and this weird look crosses her face.

“Yeah, we’ve been better though lately, and besides, regardless if Ethan and I are getting along, you can talk about stuff with me,” I tell her as I stick my hand into the narrow box. “I just don’t want to hear all the details…” I trail off as I take out the item inside it. “What in the love of God, Lila. I mean, I knew this was a sex kit, but really?”

Lila’s face turns bright red as she busts up laughing, her shoulders hunching forward. “I was sort of wondering if that was what was in there when the batteries fell out.”

I hold up a pink vibrator with this weird front part attached to it, biting my lip not to laugh. But Lila continues to laugh as she extends her arm across the table and takes the vibrator out of my hand. Then she pops the batteries inside the bottom, twists a nob, and it starts to hum. Laughter escapes both our lips as she drops it on the table and it begins to shake.

“Imagine how good it will feel,” she says, tears slipping through her eyes, her whole body trembling with laughter.

Still laughing, I ask, “Was the cashier who put this all together a guy or a girl?”

“A guy,” she says, poking the vibrator with her finger to steer it away from falling off the table. “A total creeper appar…” she drifts off as the back door swings open. Snowflakes flurry in as Micha and Ethan come strolling inside, tracking snow and carrying a few plastic bags of groceries.

Micha takes one look at the vibrator, the pile of lacy and sequined fabric, and the feather duster and the bags immediately fall from his hands as he explodes with laughter. “What the hell did we miss?” He grips onto the countertop for support as his knees buckle.

Ethan stands by the backdoor, looking lost, like he can’t quite figure out what the hell we were doing.

Lila overlaps her fingers as she leans back in the chair. “We were playing a game.”

“What kind of a game?” Ethan wonders and the confusion is replaced by a wicked look. “See who could stick it farther up their—”

Lila cuts him off as she picks up the vibrator and chucks it across the room. It zips past his head and hits the door, still humming. “Do not finish that sentence, Ethan Gregory.”

We all settle briefly into an awkward silence and then everyone spurts out in laughter. We continue to laugh until Micha scoops the vibrator up and turns it off. The humming stops and he puts it down on the table in front of me, winking at me as he backs up to where he dropped his groceries.

“So we were thinking of having a party,” he announces as he piles the bags onto the kitchen counter.

I make a face as I put the vibrator, lingerie, and feather duster into the bag. “Really?”

He picks up a box of cereal out of the bag. “It’ll be like a bachelorette slash bachelor party.”

“Aren’t we supposed to have those separately?” I ask, pushing the bag aside.

“And with strippers,” Lila adds, and Ethan gives her a strange look as he slips off his jacket and hangs it up by the back door.

“Yeah, we could do that but I’d rather have a party with you,” Micha says. “And you can always strip for me later when it’s over. That’s much better in my opinion.”

“TMI,” Ethan says with a frustrated sigh as he sets the bags he was carrying on the counter. Micha rolls his eyes at him and then turns to me. “So are you down?”

“For a party?” I ask. “I guess.”

“You guess?” he questions, as he puts the cereal box into the cupboard. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine. A party sounds fine.” I get up from the chair and walk across the kitchen to him. I cross paths with Ethan as he heads for Lila. He whispers something in her ear and then the two of them wander off toward the guest room, Ethan muttering that they’ll be back in a few.

I start helping Micha unpack the groceries, putting cans of food into the cupboard. “Who are you planning on inviting to this party of yours?” I ask.

He shrugs as he opens the fridge to put a gallon of milk away. “Just the people we used to hang out with. The ones still living around here anyway.”

I close the cupboard and lean against the counter. “Which is probably pretty much everyone,” I mumble and then internally sigh. “Are you going to play at this party?”

He kicks the fridge door shut and goes back over to the bags. “Do you want me to play at this party?”

I stare down at the floor. “If you want to.”

He pauses and I continue to stare at the linoleum floor until his boots appear in my line of vision, and then I angle my chin back to meet his eyes. “What?” I ask as he aims a suspicious look at me.

“What do you mean, what?” He positions himself in front of me, his jacket still speckled with wet spots from the falling snow outside. “This is bothering you and I want to know why.”

“It’s not bothering me,” I start to protest but he targets me with a warning look. “It’s just that this will be the first party we’ve ever been at as a couple.”

“And?”

“And from my knowledge, a lot of the people who came to these parties… the female ones…” I search for the right words that won’t make me sound like a jealous asshole, but there aren’t any so I decide just to be blunt. “You fucked.”

He winces, but then quickly composes himself. “I know, but that’s in the past. What matters is that I’ll be fucking you at the end of the night, over and over again. In fact, I’ll be fucking you every night for the rest of your life.” He gives me a flirty smile and I swat his chest with my hand.

“What?” he says innocently, trapping my hand against his chest. “Would you rather me say ‘make love’?” He brushes his thumb across the ring on my finger. “Because we can do that, too.” With one swift movement, he slides his palm down my side, grips my hip, and spins me around. Pushing down on my lower back, he presses up against me as I grip onto the counter for support.

“It’s really up to you.” His breath caresses my ear before he draws his mouth away to nibble on my earlobe.

I shudder and his chest collides against my back as he laughs. “Of course if we make love then the vibrator isn’t going to be much use,” he says.

“It’s a gift from Lila.”

“It looks fun.” His voice comes out gravelly.

“Fun for me or for you?” I joke.

His hair tickles the back of my neck as he leans his head against me, sucking in a slow breath. “Keep it up, pretty girl, and you’re going to get it.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m aiming for.” I bite my lip in anticipation, waiting for him to react.

He misses a beat and I feel him shift his hips. “I swear to God, you’re going to be the death of me.” His lips touch the back of my neck, feather soft, and then he rubs his hips against me, before stepping away and I turn around and we return to putting the groceries away.

I notice him glance at the closed journal on the table a couple of times, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Eventually, I decided to answer the question I know he wants to ask but isn’t going to because he knows it’s better for me to bring it up.

“I read some of it,” I admit as I stand on my tiptoes to put a can of beans on the top shelf.

“And how was it?” he casually asks as he rummages through the last bag of food.

I hop up onto the counter, letting my legs dangle over the side. “Intense.”

“How so?”

I shrug. “Her thoughts were just dark and I found out that she was pregnant with Dean when she decided to marry my dad.”

He positions himself in front of me and urges my legs open so he can step in between them. “Really?”

I nod, pressing my knees against his side. “And she was scared.”

“Of being a mom?” His hands clamp down on my thighs.

“And having a future.” Tears sting at my eyes. The words are striking a nerve. A painful, aching nerve, buried deep inside my heart. I massage my hand over my chest, trying to get the crushing pain out.

Sensing my panic, Micha quickly wraps his arms around me. The second I’m in his arms, I feel better, lighter. He hugs me as I breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I bury my face in his chest and he supports my weight like he always does. Always.

“Are you really sure you want this for the rest of your life?” I mutter against his chest.

“More than anything, Ella May.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve known that since the day we met.”

The tears subside as I look up at him. “You’ve known you wanted the crazy girl next door to be your wife since you were four?”

He nods, holding my gaze. “Maybe not as a wife, but I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted you in my life forever.”

Tears make their way back up, this time not out of panic but from the overwhelming abundance of emotions I feel for him. God damn it, it’s so intense. Too intense. Feelings built over years and years of history, starting with the moment we first met.

“You were always there for me,” I say. “No matter how much of a pain in the ass I was.”

He smiles. “And even though you won’t ever admit it, you were there for me, too, every time I needed you.”

I want to disagree with him, but I don’t because it’d ruin the moment. “Just you and me against the world,” I whisper as tears drip from my eyes and down my cheeks.

He fixes a finger underneath my chin, slants my head back, and leans in to kiss me. “Always and forever.”